


From You, I Take My Pleasure

by almostafantasia



Series: To You, I Give Myself [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Smut, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lexa seems to have a little bit of an obsession with Clarke’s Christmas present from Octavia and Clarke really isn’t complaining at all.</p><p>aka modern clexa try using a strap-on for the first time</p>
            </blockquote>





	From You, I Take My Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel, though it probably works on its own too if you don't want to read the first story.

The first time that Lexa brings it up is on their first night back in the dorms after the Christmas break.

Clarke arrives back on campus in the mid-afternoon a few days before classes start up again and no sooner has Abby planted a kiss on Clarke’s cheek and bade her goodbye for another semester, is there a knock on Clarke’s door. Clarke barely has time to open the door before Lexa steps inside and wraps her arms around Clarke’s neck, mumbling a teasing, “Hey stranger,” between kisses that are both too much and not quite enough after a month apart.

Later, when they finally collapse onto the mattress of Clarke’s tiny bed, sweaty but satisfied, Lexa curls up against Clarke’s side and rests her head on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I missed you.”

Clarke doesn’t answer, she doesn’t _need_ to answer for Lexa to know that the words are reciprocated,

Once both their heartrates have calmed to a normal level, Lexa lifts her head slightly to look Clarke in the eyes as she asks, “So how was your Christmas?”

Clarke laughs, a rumble that comes from deep within her belly and causes the whole bed to tremble.

“What?” asks Lexa, though a smile pulls at her own mouth too.

“I just find it funny that we got naked and had two orgasms each before doing the whole “hey, how are you?” thing,” Clarke replies.

“We’ve never been particularly traditional, have we?” muses Lexa. “It would be a shame to start now.”

Clarke smiles and briefly reflects on how happy even just the thought of Lexa makes her. The feeling of having Lexa in her arms are weeks of being at the end of an instant messaging service is too overjoying to fully quantify.

“I missed you too,” Clarke mumbles softly.

It doesn’t even come close to explaining how she feels, but to say anything more than that would be both too thrilling and too terrifying for a January afternoon in a half empty dorm block.

“When’s Octavia coming back?” asks Lexa.

“Not until tomorrow,” replies Clarke, her hands mindlessly playing with Lexa’s soft hair, wrapping the end of one of the curls around the tip of her finger and then watching it unravel, before repeating the entire process. “She spent Christmas skiing with Lincoln and his family. Their flight lands in the morning.”

“So can I stay the night?” Lexa asks, her voice full of hope.

Pressing a kiss to the top of Lexa’s head, Clarke answers, “Of course you can.”

Lexa’s arms tightens across Clarke’s stomach so fractionally that Clarke probably would have missed it, were she not hyperaware of every movement of Lexa’s body against her own. Clarke smiles to herself, basking in the momentary rush of affection that she feels for the girl sprawled against her side.

“So it was a good Christmas then?”

Lexa’s repeat of a question that she should already know the answer to serves as a reminder for how inexperienced they are at trying anything beyond having sex with each other. Texting regularly while hundreds of miles apart is one thing but actually holding a conversation brings out new nerves in Clarke, and she can’t help but wonder if Lexa’s decision to initiate sex immediately upon their reunion was less of missing the physical side to their relationship and more of an attempt to postpone the inevitable moment where they have to try and be more than just two friends who sleep together sometimes.

“You already know about my Christmas,” Clarke teases, digging her fingers lightly into the soft flesh just below Lexa’s ribcage. “We texted almost every day.”

“Yes, but I’m sure that you can’t have told me _everything_.”

Clarke sighs, then answers, “It was … Christmas was good but there’s always _something_ … I don’t know.” Clarke hesitates in an attempt to formulate a proper response. “Since my dad died I guess there’s … Christmas always used to be about family and now that he’s gone there’s always something missing. Traditions that no longer happen because he’s not here to insist that they do.”

When Lexa lifts her head and looks at Clarke with a look of deep concern, Clarke realises that the conversation has quickly got quite heavy for two barely friends still basking in the afterglow of some pretty incredible sex.

“My mom tries,” Clarke continues, “and I really appreciate it, but…” Clarke trails off, then smiles at memories of Christmases from years past. “But she can’t sing Mariah Carey as well as my dad could.”

Lexa laughs softly, a pretty smile breaking out across her already beautiful face. Still propped up on her elbow, Lexa leans across and plants a tender kiss on the corner of Clarke’s mouth.

“Thank you for feeling like you could share this with me,” she says earnestly. “I want to be able to get to know you better.”

Clarke feels the fondness for the other girl surge up within her in a way that despite its increasingly regular occurrence where Lexa is concerned, still manages to catch Clarke by surprise each time.

Her head once more finding its home on Clarke’s shoulder, Lexa asks, “Did you get around to using the present that Octavia gave you?”

She asks the question as nonchalantly as she asked about Clarke’s Christmas, as if she’s asking about a bath product instead of a sex toy, and Clarke stalls momentarily, stunned by Lexa’s brazen yet casual tone.

“Um, no,” Clarke answers, grateful that the position of Lexa’s head on her shoulder means that the brunette can’t see how red Clarke’s cheeks are turning. “I left it here, actually. My relationship with my mom is strained enough without her accidentally stumbling across a dildo in my bedroom.”

It’s a lie. Clarke did take the toy home, hidden carefully inside an old pair of socks at the bottom of her underwear drawer, and she took it out on more than one occasion to look at it, not entirely sure how to go about using it. But it always ended up back inside that pair of socks, unused but never far from the front of Clarke’s mind.

“Fair enough,” shrugs Lexa, and that’s all that is said on the matter.

* * *

When Octavia crashes into the room the following afternoon, lugging a heavy suitcase behind her and closely followed by a heavily laden Lincoln, she finds the two girls sitting side by side on Clarke’s bed, bodies pressed close together as they watch on old episode of _Friends_ (a show which Lexa claims never to have seen before which Clarke thinks, quite frankly, is preposterous) on Clarke’s laptop.

“Oh my god, you two are disgusting!” exclaims Octavia as soon as she lays eyes on the two of them, her nose wrinkled up in disgust. “Lincoln, aren’t they disgusting?”

Lincoln merely drops Octavia’s bags onto her bed and shrugs.

“Shut up, Octavia,” Clarke snaps back. “We’re fully clothed.”

Octavia ignores her, looking around the room suspiciously and screwing her nose up at something.

“How is it that you’ve been back for twenty four hours and this room already reeks of sex?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow at Octavia, who immediately recoils.

“On second thoughts, I don’t want you to answer that question,” Octavia says, shaking her head and crossing the room to the window, which she opens wide, a chilly gust of January wind sending an unwanted shiver down Clarke’s spine.

Lexa’s arm instinctively slides up and wraps around Clarke’s shoulder, and she uses her other arm to pull the blankets that lie draped over their feet further up so that it covers more of their bodies and protects them from the cold air now flooding the room.

“I’ll keep you warm,” she promises Clarke.

From across the room, Octavia makes a retching noise.

“Okay, we need some ground rules,” Octavia says firmly, her hands going to her hips as she does a remarkable impression of a stern mother scolding her children. “Number one; no PDA when I’m in the room. Number two; a fair warning would be nice whenever you two are planning to turn this room into a sex cave. I don’t want to come back from class and find you at it like rabbits. And number three; _please_ keep it to your own bed.”

Clarke is quick to protest.

“Alright, that’s just unnecessary,” she scowls at Octavia. “I don’t know why you would even think that we’d turn this room into a sex cave.”

“You mean we’re not going to?” Lexa asks from beside Clarke, feigning innocence for just a second, before her face cracks into a mischievous smile.

Across the room, Octavia starts retching dramatically, which Clarke thinks is completely unnecessary, considering the vast array of situations (and positions) that she’s been unfortunate enough to catch Octavia in with Lincoln in the past.

“You’re roommate isn’t as bad as mine, is she?” Clarke muses softly to Lexa.

“I don’t know, but she’s not back until tomorrow.”

Clarke’s reaction is immediate, and she is off the bed with the laptop that had been on their laps clutched to her chest as she begins to gather up a few of her things.

“Come on, we’re spending the night in your room.”

Lexa is slower at getting her stuff together, but Clarke helps her by picking up her sweater from the back of Clarke’s desk chair and her shoes from by the door. When they are ready to leave, Clarke bids goodbye to her roommate with a middle-fingered salute.

As they exit out into the corridor, Octavia calls after them, “Love you too, Clarke!”

* * *

Clarke learns quickly that Lexa’s favourite time to have serious conversations is right after the pair of them have finished having sex – sweaty, sated, and still slightly breathless.

“God, you’re so good at that,” Clarke tells the naked girl between her legs, her voice husky from the recent orgasm.

Lexa crawls up the bed, and the sight of her doing so, eyes dark and lips still wet with Clarke’s arousal, is almost enough to have Clarke begging for an immediate round two. But no sooner has the idea crossed Clarke’s mind, does Lexa’s expression shift, the teasing glint of satisfaction in her eyes quickly replaced with a deep thoughtfulness.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Lexa starts ominously. “About … uh, about the dildo.”

Clarke lets out a little sigh of relief, for the serious expression on Lexa’s face had her momentarily worried that she was about to be dumped by her girlfriend of just a few weeks whilst they are both still completely naked. But then she realises exactly what Lexa has said instead, and a heated flush rises to her cheeks.

A small part of her brain wonders if she’ll ever be able to keep her composure at the mention of the sex toy hidden deep at the back of her underwear drawer.

“Oh,” Clarke chokes out. “Really? What about it?”

“You said that you hadn’t used it yet. Is that still true?”

Unsure whether there is a correct response here or not, Clarke answers hesitantly, “Um, yes.”

Lexa pushes her body up so that she’s leaning on her elbow against Clarke’s side, still half on top of her, and then says without even blinking, “I think we should use it together. If you want to, that is?”

Clarke is pretty certain that her brain actually stops working, because there are about two to three seconds in which she can’t get herself to do anything but gawk at Lexa’s request, mouth open and eyes pretty much popping out of her head in shock. But when she does regain control of her body, her mind is swarmed with thoughts of just what Lexa is implying, and promptly short-circuits again.

She does the only thing that she knows how to, which is to pull Lexa down for a hot kiss, her hands shooting down to grasp Lexa’s hips and pull her body on top of Clarke’s so that the stickiness between Lexa’s legs smears itself over Clarke’s stomach.

“Is that a yes?” Lexa mumbles into Clarke’s mouth.

“It’s a hell yes,” Clarke replies throatily, sending one of her hands down between Lexa’s thighs and pushing two probing fingers into the wet folds that she finds there.

* * *

Clarke buys a harness online, after almost an hour of red-faced browsing, a sturdy one that comes with raving reviews and multiple recommendations for first timers, and then deletes her entire browsing history because god forbid Octavia finding out what she’s just ordered.

* * *

The harness arrives in an inconspicuous brown package and there’s absolutely no way that the two people she passes with it in her hand can know what’s inside it, though that does nothing to stop her from avoiding all eye contact and cursing the redness in her cheeks as she makes the trip up to her room from the ground floor of the dorm building.

Clarke triple checks that her bedroom door is locked behind her before she opens the parcel, not wanting to risk even Lexa walking in on her investigating the item within. She reasons that the longer she goes without telling Lexa what she’s ordered, the longer she has to change her mind about it and send it back.

If the package seems innocuous from the outside, there is absolutely nothing subtle about what Clarke finds on the inside. She tears open the brown paper, only to be greeted with the sight of a scantily clad and incredibly busty blonde wearing the harness on the packaging, and it’s suddenly as if every drop of moisture has evaporated from her mouth, now dryer than a desert.

But then, of course, when she’s regained a little bit of her composure, she gets the most ridiculous idea of all.

 _What if she were to try it on?_ For science, of course.

Clarke checks the door once again before she fetched the dildo out from the very back of her sock drawer, tossing the fake dick onto her bed and then going for the pair of scissors on her bed so that she can get into the plastic shell that encases the harness.

It’s fairly easy to put together, just a simple ring that she has to slide the dildo into, but the real challenge comes when she tries to attach the contraption to her own body. Her jeans come off quickly, though she keeps her underwear on for hygiene reasons because Clarke is still not entirely convinced that she doesn’t want to send the thing back, but it takes her three attempts and a quick read of the instructions that come with it to get her legs through the right holes and the straps tightened accordingly around her hips in a comfortable fit.

Clarke moves across the room to look at herself in the full body mirror that hangs from the wall beside Octavia’s closet, and immediately snorts at what she sees.

It looks ridiculous, if Clarke is completely honest. Red has never been her colour, even less so when it’s six inches of red silicone jutting out from her legs. There’s no way in hell that Lexa is going to find this thing a turn on.

But it wouldn’t hurt if she just…

Clarke gives her hips an experimental thrust into nothingness, watching in the mirror as the dildo bounces stupidly between her legs. She finds herself, perhaps for the first time in her nineteen years of life, feeling sympathetic towards people with penises and the extra appendage that they have to deal with, unsure exactly what she’s supposed to do with this new addition to her body.

She turns ninety degrees to get a different angle of herself in the mirror, still not entirely convinced that she shouldn’t just take it off, repackage the harness and send it straight back, but before she can reach any kind of decision, she hears the unmistakeable sound of a key sliding into the lock on the door.

As the door begins to open, Clarke’s hands dart up to her hips and fumble with the straps of the harness, desperately trying to pull them loose so that she can step out of the strap-on and hide it somewhere before Octavia notices that she’s wearing it, but the more she tries, the harder it is to loosen the buckles.

“What the _fuck_?”

Clarke trips over her own feet as she hears Octavia’s voice from the doorway. Her hands go almost comically to cover the fake dick, but it doesn’t matter that her hands aren’t big enough to cover the whole thing because one look at Octavia’s face, mouth wide open and eyebrows so high up on her forehead that they practically blend in with her hairline, gives Clarke absolutely no doubt that Octavia has seen _everything_.

“Shut the door before everybody who walks past sees!” she scolds Octavia when she finally regains control of her words.

As soon as Octavia realises that Clarke isn’t completely naked beneath the harness, her shock turns into laughter, kicking the door closed behind her as she tips her head back and cackles loudly.

If there had been a single part of Clarke’s face that wasn’t scarlet before, there definitely isn’t now.

“This is priceless, Clarke,” Octavia grins gleefully. “Let me take a picture so I can show Raven.”

“No!” Clarke protests, lunging forward to snatch Octavia’s phone out of her hand before she can get photographic evidence of what is almost certainly the most embarrassing moment of Clarke’s entire life.

Dropping her bag onto the floor, Octavia collapses onto her bed and arches a single eyebrow in Clarke’s direction.

“So you and Lexa are actually going to use it?” When Clarke says nothing in response, Octavia winkles her nose in revulsion and says, “That’s disgusting.”

“You bought the damn thing!” Clarke reminds her, finally triumphing over the buckles and letting the harness drop to the floor.

“Yes, but back when I didn’t think you’d even grow the balls to ask her out, let alone ask to use something like that on her.”

Clarke picks up her discarded jeans and puts them back on, as if redressing herself will somehow help her to regain all of the dignity that she has lost in the last sixty seconds.

“Actually, she was the one who suggested that we…”

“I’m not listening,” Octavia interrupts, holding her hands up to cover her ears. “I don’t need to know what you and Lexa get up to.” Turning to give Clarke a pointed look, she continues, “And Clarke, when you actually get around to using that thing, please give me some warning so I can emigrate to a different continent.”

Clarke picks the strap-on up off the floor and takes full pleasure in the yelp that Octavia lets out when the toy soars out of Clarke’s hand and collides with her head.

* * *

When Octavia (and Raven, when she hears Octavia’s dramatic retelling of the entire saga later that night) have finally finished teasing Clarke, the dildo and the harness both go to the back of Clarke’s underwear drawer, in a vague hope that putting them out of sight will stop Clarke from spending every hour of the day thinking about how she and Lexa might put the strap-on to good use, but it is futile. She’s not exaggerating when she says that she hasn’t been able to think of anything else, and every time she is with Lexa, she can’t think of much more than when would be a good time to ask Lexa if she wants to maybe have a go at using the toy.

Clarke settles for not asking Lexa at all, but instead casually (okay, but who is Clarke kidding, because she definitely does it very deliberately) leaving the strap-on in full view on her desk when she invites Lexa over on a night that she knows Octavia will be spending at Lincoln’s.

“Hey, babe,” Lexa greets Clarke with a peck on the lips, kicking off her shoes at the door. She goes to place her phone and keys down on Clarke’s desk, but in doing so, her eyes fall onto the toy that Clarke has left in plain sight, then flicker up to Clarke with wide realisation. “You bought a harness?”

Clarke swallows nervously and then nods.

“I did.”

Lexa’s lips part and her eyes darken almost imperceptibly.

“And you want to use it with me.”

Lexa phrases it as a statement rather than a question, and Clarke is a little bit worried that the hungry look Lexa is giving her is going to cause her heart to combust inside her chest before they can get to the good stuff.

Too busy overanalysing everything, Clarke doesn’t notice that Lexa has moved into her personal space until hands seek out her waist. Lexa’s gaze meets Clarke’s with a question in her eyes, one that Clarke answers silently with the tiniest of nods, and then Lexa is kissing her like she needs Clarke to survive, all hot tongue seeking entrance to Clarke’s mouth and teeth scraping against Clarke’s lower lip.

Clarke, still not entirely convinced that she should have left the toy out for Lexa to see, or that she should have even bought the harness in the first place, would be quite content to take this whole thing incredibly slowly. And not even in a _let’s savour the moment_ kind of way, but more in an _if I kiss Lexa for long enough then maybe she’ll forget about the toy completely_ kind of way.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to use it, because oh _boy,_ does the dampness in her panties prove that that is not the case. She’s just worried, that’s all. Worried that if she’s the one wearing it she won’t know what to do. Worried that if she’s not and she enjoys it too much, Lexa will think that she misses having sex with guys. Worried that Lexa will take one look at the fake dick and just laugh at it because of how obnoxiously red it is. Worried that Lexa will realise how heteronormative the toy is and blame Clarke for pushing her into something that she’s not comfortable with.

Deep down, she knows that her worries are both unfounded and unnecessary. The way that Lexa claws at her clothing, desperate to get the both naked in a record time, should be evidence enough to prove that Lexa is going to be as into this as she is.

And yet still, she wavers beneath Lexa’s touch.

“Hey,” Lexa says, tenderly brushing a few loose strands of Clarke’s hair out of her face, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Clarke pauses for a moment to collect herself, and tries to formulate as response as if Lexa hasn’t just kissed her senseless.

“I do, Lexa,” she promises. “ _God_ , I want to. I’m just worried that you don’t. That this is too hetero for you.”

Lexa slings her arms loosely over Clarke’s shoulders, crossing her wrists behind Clarke’s neck, and rests her forehead against Clarke’s, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Too hetero?” she asks. “Babe, there’s nothing hetero about this. Some girls have dicks, ours just happens to be fake. Don’t worry about me. My gay ass is more than okay with this.”

Lexa’s reassurances giving Clarke’s confidence the little boost that it needs, she drops her hands to cup Lexa’s clothed ass cheeks in her hand, giving them a rough squeeze through the denim.

“Your gay ass?” she teases, tilting their heads so that their lips are just millimetres apart. “How about you let me see that gay ass?”

Lexa smashes their mouths together once more, the kiss clumsy to start with but settling down quickly with an ease that Clarke is becoming increasingly familiar with. She feels one of Lexa’s hands drop from around her neck, then a second later her fingers close around Clarke’s wrist. Clarke is left wondering for just a fraction of a second what Lexa wants with her hand, but when it is dragged around to Lexa’s front and to the button on her jeans, her intention becomes apparent.

Clarke lets her fingers flick open the button, and they break the kiss so that Lexa can push the material down her legs and step out of it. Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Clarke pulls her t-shirt up and over her head, and then when Lexa’s lips collide with her own again, it is a flurry of clothes coming off in their hurried desperation to get each other naked; a tangled bra strap, a pair of jeans getting caught on Clarke’s ankle, a t-shirt stuck around Lexa’s wild mane of brown curls.

When they are both naked and breathless, Clarke hands seek out Lexa’s hips, pulling their fronts flush together, and her eyes flicker over to the fake dick lying obnoxiously within both their peripheral visions on the desk.

“How are we going to do this?” Clarke asks.

Lexa swallows thickly, her eyebrows furrowing together as she considers the toy, “I’ve never had something that size inside me before, but … I mean, if you’d like to wear it, then…”

Clarke’s fingers dig into the flesh at Lexa’s hips and she leans her forehead against Lexa’s, the smirk already waiting on her lips.

“Is that your way of asking me to fuck you?”

Lexa turns suddenly shy, lowering her gaze so that it’s no longer meeting Clarke’s, and blushes as she replies, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And to think I used to think you were so smooth,” teases Clarke, quirking an eyebrow at Lexa as pushes her girlfriend back towards the bed and then turns to reach the strap-on that lies at the edge of her desk.

Lexa retaliates quickly, “Are you going to use that thing on me or am I going to have to do it myself?”

As she steps into the harness, Clarke is grateful that she thought to practice this part on her own beforehand, because she gets it right on the first attempt and wastes no time at all in pulling the harness up her legs so that the base of the toy rests against her pubic mound. Tightening the straps at her hips gives Clarke a new surge of confidence as the toy settles into place, and the ease at which she manages to herself into the harness without getting flustered allows her room to wind Lexa up just a little bit before they get started.

“What thing?” she asks coyly.

“Clarke.”

As she glares at Clarke, Lexa’s eyes are momentarily filled with murderous intent, but then her gaze drops to the dick now held securely in place at Clarke’s hips and she’s practically salivating.

“Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke continues to feign innocence. “Did you want me to help you out with something?”

Clarke struts over to the bed with as much arrogance as she can muster. With the harness around her hips and the dick standing proud between her legs, she’s somehow had a personality transplant and become the embodiment of every fuckboy she’s ever had the misfortune of meeting, but she finds herself not even caring. And from the way that Lexa is looking at her, her eyes flickering rapidly between Clarke’s smirking face and the silicone toy at her hips, it’s not bothering her either.

Her voice raspy and breathless, Lexa pleads, “Fuck me, Clarke.”

Unable to help herself, Clarke asks, “With my fingers? With my mouth? You’re going to have to be more specific, Lexa.”

But even as she asks, she slowly curls the fingers of her left hand around the base of the dick, subtly drawing Lexa’s attention back to the toy.

“Use the…” Lexa trails off, seemingly losing her words as Clarke chooses that exact moment to give the toy a slow jerk from the base to the tip and back again. “Use … you know, use the dick.”

“Whose dick?”

Clarke is having way too much fun right now, and she hasn’t even gotten started with the night’s main activity.

“ _Clarke_.”

“Lexa, _whose dick_?”

Lexa lets out a helpless whine that is almost enough for Clarke to quit the teasing and skip straight to the fucking.

 _Almost_.

“Your dick,” Lexa finally answers, and the desperation evident in her voice sends Clarke’s own arousal soaring to new heights.

“Thank you,” Clarke praises her.

Opening the drawer of her nightstand, Clarke rummages around amongst the various things she keeps in there until her fingers close around the small bottle of lube that she’s searching for. She takes it out flips open the cap, pouring some of the lube onto her hand, the cold liquid contrasting against the heated skin of her palm, and slowly strokes the dildo to coat it.

And all the while, Lexa, still naked on Clarke’s bed, can’t seem to take her eyes off her.

Clarke doesn’t really understand why, but having the dildo strapped to her hips has shot her confidence up through the roof. And the way that Lexa is currently looking at her, eyes dark and chest heaving, just sends Clarke’s ego skyrocketing. She doesn’t know why Lexa is looking at her as if she wants nothing more than for Clarke to devour her until she’s begging for relief, whether it’s because of this newfound cockiness (and yes, Clarke thinks to herself, that pun is most definitely intended) or just because of the visual of the fake dick jutting out from between Clarke’s legs, but Clarke is most definitely not complaining.

She strolls confidently over to the bed, smiling triumphantly to herself at the way that Lexa’s wide green eyes are fixated on the fingers that curl around the toy, stroking it from base to tip, partly to coat the dildo with lube and partly because Clarke just really likes teasing Lexa.

But from the way that Lexa is looking at her, sprawled across the bed and pushed up onto her elbows so that she can get a good look at Clarke, her thighs clenching together in an effort to alleviate some of the discomfort there, Clarke is pretty sure that the lube is barely going to be needed at all.

“How do you want to do this?” Clarke asks as she climbs back onto the bed.

Lexa’s eyes snap back up to Clarke’s face, cheeks flushed and chest heaving slightly, and Clarke really likes the thought that looking anywhere else renders Lexa completely incapable of forming a coherent response.

“I … I really don’t know,” Lexa answer. “Like I said, I’ve never done this before.”

“Well I’ve always preferred being on top so we could try that,” Clarke suggests. “You’d have to do most of the work but it’s let you have the control and set the pace.”

Lexa swallows, and then nods decisively.

“Let’s do it.”

They kiss languidly as they manoeuvre into position, Clarke’s hands dropping to cup the soft globes of Lexa’s ass to assist her until she is straddling Clarke’s hips. The dick gets caught between their bodies, pressed awkwardly against Clarke’s stomach under Lexa’s weight. Clarke tries her best to forget that it’s even there, to forget that it’s about to go inside Lexa, but even just the act of trying to forget about it brings it right to the forefront of her mind. And when she realises that Lexa’s hips are moving, grinding down so that the length silicone toy slides back and forth through the wet folds between Lexa’s legs.

Clarke breaks the kiss to watch Lexa, because she really needs a visual to go with the movements on top of her, but in doing so, Lexa’s attention shifts completely. Clarke watches as Lexa lifts her hips up and reaches a hand between her legs to wrap her fingers around the toy (which, Clarke notes as all the moisture suddenly disappears from her mouth, is now coated with more than just the lube), guiding it towards the entrance.

When Lexa starts to carefully lower herself onto the dick, Clarke forgets how to breathe.

It’s quite a sight, red silicone disappearing millimetre at a time as Lexa’s hips descend, the way that Lexa’s eyes flicker shut and the muscles in her forehead furrow into a frown as she takes the toy. Clarke is glad that all of Lexa’s focus is on what’s going on between her legs because there’s no obligation for Clarke to fill the silence with words, something which she is positive she would not be able to do with this spectacle in front of her.

“It’s wider than your fingers,” Lexa comments absently.

Clarke splutters, and Lexa’s eyes snap open.

“Are you okay?” she frowns in concern.

“Yeah,” Clarke replies wheezily, inhaling deeply and then letting the air out in a single long breath in an attempt to regain some of her senses. “Watching you put it in is just really hot, that’s all.”

Lexa raises a single eyebrow, and then says, “I’m not even riding it, yet.”

Clarke lets out an uncensored groan, Lexa’s words reminding her that this is just the start, that there is so much more still to come, and with the way that she is barely managing to make it through the sight of Lexa slowly sinking down onto the dick, Clarke doesn’t know how she’s going to cope with watching Lexa _ride_ the damn thing.

“Jesus, Lexa, you’re going to kill me.”

“I hope not,” Lexa shoots back. “Shit, this thing feels bigger than it looks.”

Rubbing soothingly at the skin of Lexa’s hips, Clarke says, “We can stop if you’re not okay with it.”

Lexa gives Clarke a look, as if to say _of course we’re not stopping_ , and then lowers her hips to take the rest of the dick with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, wow,” Clarke exhales.

Lexa remains still where she is for a few long seconds that seem to last a lifetime in Clarke’s mind, her eyes closed as she gets used to the sensation. When she’s ready, she lifts her hips up until just the tip of the toy is still inside her, and then sinks back down onto it. Her eyes open, pupils wide and green irises hazy, the absolute image of pleasure.

“Kiss me, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t really want to do anything more than watch Lexa fuck herself on top of her – she’s pretty sure that those visuals could bring her close to the peak without too much direct stimulation – but this is supposed to be about Lexa’s pleasure, not her own, and if Lexa needs to be kissed, Clarke will be damned if she doesn’t comply. She lifts one hand from Lexa’s hip and curls it around the nape of Lexa’s neck, pulling her mouth down for another kiss and lifting her own head to meet Lexa halfway.

Their lips mesh together messily, Lexa letting out a long moan into Clarke’s open mouth as she switches up her movements and starts gyrating her hips in a circular movement.

“How does it feel?” Clarke mumbles against Lexa’s lips.

Lexa tilts her head back with a groan, rocking her hips up and down on the toy, and Clarke can’t do much more than just watch her, captivated by the way that Lexa moves and arches her back.

“Good,” she answers. “ _Really_ fucking good.”

Lexa is not normally particularly vocal, choosing to express her pleasure through gasps and barely audible whimpers, but the toy is reaching places that Clarke’s fingers never have before and it draws out some new noises, keening moans and unrestrained mewls of pleasure. Clarke’s sense are being overwhelmed, the sight of Lexa pretty much bouncing on the toy at the juncture of her thighs, the symphony of moans leaving her parted lips, the occasional pressure of the base of the dildo providing a little stimulation to her own clit that is barely there at all and yet is somehow really working her up faster than she’d like to admit.

“Clarke, I need … my clit … your fingers …”

If she didn’t have a naked girl in her lap, riding the dick – _her_ dick, she reminds herself – Clarke would perhaps take the time to tease Lexa for how completely disjointed Lexa’s speech is. But then again, Clarke realises that if she didn’t have a naked girl in her lap riding her dick, then Lexa wouldn’t be in such a state to be made fun of anyway.

She does as she is told though, sending one hand down and sliding it through the neatly trimmed patch of hair until it reaches the wetness beyond. Clarke’s fingers stay still for just a moment, and she revels in the feeling of Lexa’s hips moving up and down, and the way that she can just about feel the toy going in and out of her girlfriend as she moves, but Lexa lets out a desperate moan, a plea for pleasure, and Clarke takes it upon herself to give Lexa what she wants.

It takes barely ten seconds for Lexa to cry out her orgasm, just a few quick and well-practiced circles of Clarke’s fingertips on the sensitive skin around Lexa’s clit, and then she’s collapsing on top of Clarke, a pretty pink flush covering her skin as the last few tremors of her climax slowly course through her body.

Pressing soft kisses to any part of Lexa’s face that she can reach, Clarke mumbles softly, “You okay?”

Lexa lets out a contented hum in response, and then lifts her head to look at Clarke, a lazy smile on her lips.

“Your turn,” she says.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to…”

“No, I want to.”

In a move so swift that has Clarke wondering how Lexa hasn’t actually done this before, Lexa’s fingers loosen the straps of the harness against each of Clarke’s hips and tug the entire thing down her legs. Before Clarke even has time to properly register that Lexa has tossed the strap-on onto her bedroom floor and is starting the descent down Clarke’s body, leaving a trail of kisses across the hot skin as she goes.

When Lexa’s mouth finally arrives between Clarke’s legs (though not after she’s paid a healthy amount of attention to the soft flesh of Clarke’s thighs with her teeth), Clarke thinks she might spontaneously combust. Lexa’s tongue darts out a swipes up her slit, before she dips two fingers into Clarke’s waiting entrance and starts up a steady rhythm.

The moan that Clarke lets out when Lexa’s tongue starts assaulting her clit, painting circles around it with the very tip, is just indecent. Clarke sincerely hopes that the guys living in the room next door aren’t at home because there’s no way that she’s ever going to be able to look them in the eyes again if they heard that noise through the paper thin walls, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on the potential future embarrassment because Lexa’s fingers and tongue just feel _so fucking good_.

“Fuck, Lexa,” she pants, back arching off the bed as Lexa’s fingers curl within her. “That feels so good.”

Lifting her mouth from Clarke for just a moment, Lexa teases, “Are you close? I know you’re close, I can feel it.”

She wraps her lips around Clarke’s clit again and suckles the aching bud in her mouth, and when Lexa’s fingers hit just the right spot inside her, Clarke can’t help the tidal wave of pleasure that courses through every fibre of her being, thighs clamping around Lexa’s head and eyes rolling back into her head.

It takes a few moments to recover, but when she does, and her eyes flicker open once more, it is to the sight of an incredibly smug looking Lexa on her knees between Clarke’s legs.

“That was quick,” Lexa says amusedly, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Clarke takes a few seconds to steady her breathing, and then answers, “Yeah, the whole dildo thing really gets me going.”

“Noted,” Lexa replies with a grin. “I can’t wait to try it on you.”

Clarke lets out a groan and closes her eyes.

“Not just yet, though. I feel like I need about half a century to recover from the sight of you riding it.”

Lexa drapes her body across Clarke’s and nuzzles her face into the soft skin of Clarke’s neck, pressing occasional fleeting kisses there.

 “Do you think we should get Octavia a _thank you_ card?” Clarke says with a little laugh. “Maybe a little gift? Some flowers?”

“Enjoyed yourself then?” Lexa asks, and Clarke can feel the way that Lexa’s lips turn up into a smile against her neck.

“Just a little bit,” replies Clarke, adding as an afterthought, “Best Christmas present ever.”

“Wait until I’ve used it on you before you make that judgement.”

Lexa is going to be the death of her, Clarke just _knows_ it.

* * *

They clean the dildo shortly after showering and getting dressed the following morning, and then, in a plan that has Clarke cackling wildly to herself, they leave it and the harness out on full display at the end of Clarke’s bed.

When Octavia arrives home an hour later, clattering into the dorm room with her gym bag slung over one shoulder, they are the picture of innocence. Clarke sit at her desk, working diligently through a homework task set by one of her professors, while Lexa sits at the head of Clarke’s bed, her legs outstretched in front of her as she peruses a heavy textbook.

“Oh good, says Octavia, dumping her bag on the floor by her closet. “You’re clothed.”

It takes a few seconds, but just as expected, Octavia’s eyes fall to the bright red of the dildo contrasting against Clarke’s pale blue duvet, and her mouth falls open.

“Is that…?” she starts, her eyes widening in panic. “Oh my god, _no_. I cannot be dealing with this right now. I’m going to see Raven.”

Clarke starts laughing before Octavia has even made it back out into the corridor and closed the door behind her, letting her head fall onto her desk.

“Priceless,” Lexa snickers from the bed.

Clarke lifts her head and gets to her feet, prowling over to the bed and climbing on top of her girlfriend. As she leans in for a kiss, she grins and murmurs, “I think we have the room to ourselves again tonight. What was it you said last night about wanting to use it on me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and talk sin with me over on my tumblr ([almostafantasia](http://www.almostafantasia.tumblr.com))


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